


Vive l'Empereur

by Heresetrash



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dominant Armitage Hux, Emperor Hux, Hux is basically Louis XIV, Knight Kylo Ren, Late 1600s, M/M, Non-binary Phasma, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heresetrash/pseuds/Heresetrash
Summary: Emperor Hux is gravely injured in an assassination attempt, and only survives thanks to Ren, the captain of his private knights.  When he recovers, the Emperor wants to reward Ren.





	Vive l'Empereur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GremlinGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinGirl/gifts).



> I got a lot of good prompts from my giftee for this, and I chose to work with the prompts _drama, suspense, royal aus, emperor HUX aus, nsfw and submissive!kylo_.

As captain of the Emperor’s private knights, Ren had advised against taking the journey at this time of day. Traveling in the afternoon in autumn could be dangerous. Night fell quickly, and the unstable weather made it even more risky. But the Emperor had not been persuaded, and the Emperor’s word was, of course, law.

So when the shots rang out from the grove the Emperor’s carriage rolled through, Ren cursed. He reacted immediately, reflexively, pulling his sword out. But in the fading light of dusk, with fog obscuring his sight further, he could barely see anything at all.

“Surround the carriage!” Ren called to his knights, but it seemed it was already too late for orders, as a knight in front was shot off his horse, falling to the ground with a thump.

Right after, two horses were shot down, making their riders fall to the ground as well. Ren kept a tight hold on the reins of his mare, although there was hardly any need to. She was almost better trained than him. She would never run.

Only then, the highwaymen came into sight, running at them from both sides. They were many, almost too many. With this amount, the knights could be overrun if they weren't careful, despite them being far superior fighters.

Ren easily disposed of one of the highwaymen as he came at him, cutting him down from above with his sword. Then he jumped off his horse, landing heavily on the muddy road.

Another highwayman attacked, but Ren blocked him. He pushed him back, using his weight to knock him to the ground, and cut him down too.

The unmistakable voice of the Emperor rang out then.

“KNIGHTS!”

Ren whirled around to face the gold-plated carriage, his black coat whipping at his back as he did. At the door lay one of his knights, dead, and on their way into it, were two highwaymen.

Ren started running. He didn't even pay attention to what was happening around him, barely registering the noise of his fellow knights fighting. He blocked the rest of the world out and focused solely on getting to the carriage and the Emperor.

He wasn't far away, but the highwaymen worked fast, and by the time he reached them, the Emperor’s accompanying advisor had already been struck down.

Ren grabbed the closest of the highwaymen, pulled him out of the carriage and effectively cut him down. But the short time it took him to do so, was time enough for the other to attack the Emperor.

It was strange how the world seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time in that moment. Ren watched as the masked highwayman pulled a gloved hand back and forcefully drove a large knife into the Emperor's stomach. The Emperor's eyes turned large, widening at the shock. The highwayman pulled his knife out again and the Emperor looked down at the newly formed wound in his body, blood forming on his coat, frowning as he covered it with his hand. Then he staggered backwards a step, collapsed to one knee first, before he slumped fully to the wooden floor.

Ren lunged forward and pulled the highwayman out of the carriage. But the highwayman was agile, smaller and quicker than Ren, and he was able to twist around and lash out at him with his knife.

Ren wasn't able to duck, and the knife cut into the right side of his face, down his neck and shoulder, slicing through the fabrics of his clothes and into his skin.

He roared at the pain before molten rage completely consumed him. The sound of blood throbbing in his ears, was all he could hear as he grabbed the highwayman’s knife arm and twisted it until he cried out and dropped the weapon. He then kicked him violently in the chest, making him fly backwards and into a murky puddle. He immediately put his sword at his throat and his foot on his chest, pressing him further into the ground.

Ren snarled at him, but the highwayman simply lifted his arm and tugged down the scarf in front of his face. He grinned triumphantly up at him, the pride at what he had done easily visible in his eyes.

A small, rational part of Ren whispered to him not to kill the man, that he should keep him alive to later press him for information. But a much larger part of him was screaming at him to cut the highwayman into small pieces for what he had just done. He had tried to assassinate the Emperor. His actions were unforgivable, and he deserved no mercy.

Ren lifted his foot from the man’s chest and kicked him in the face. He could hear the bones break as the heavy heel of his boot made impact with his nose. The man let out a pained wail, but quickly went quiet as Ren followed up by lifting his sword and impaling him with it. The words inscribed on the blade, _Vive l'Empereur,_ visible as it sank into his chest.

Breathing heavily as he slowly came out of his heated rage again, Ren turned to find the fighting still ongoing around him. He would have liked to stay and help his fellow knights, but the Emperor needed to be taken to safety. Nothing and no one else mattered. Everyone’s lives but the Emperor’s were expendable, including his own.

He whistled for his horse to come to him, then ducked into the carriage, finding the Emperor still slumped on the floor of it. His eyes were closed now, and a large bloodstain had formed on his silver coat. Ren bent down and picked him up, and found that he was much lighter than he had thought he was, even in this state.

Hastily, yet carefully, he mounted his horse with the Emperor in his arms and set off in the direction of the Imperial palace.

There was a warm wetness slowly soaking through the fabric of Ren's black waistcoat as they rode. The Emperor’s head lulled lifelessly against his chest, his long red hair having fallen in front of his face. Ren clutched him protectively with one strong arm, tightly holding the reins of his horse with the other.

The Emperor made a low groan. Ren looked down at him, just in time to meet his green eyes as he found some strength to lift his head up and look at the knight. It was only a second, before those same eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out again.

Ren clutched him tighter against his chest, pressing the heels of his boots into the flanks of his horse, urging the mare ever faster. There was the splashing sound of hooves against mud as they thundered along the road. He knew he was pushing her very close to her limits, but if he had to push her to the breaking point for the Emperor to live, he would.

They weren't too far away from the palace now. Only a little while longer and the Emperor would be safe in the capable hands of the physicians.

He had to be safe.

“Hold on,” Ren whispered to the man in his arms.

Just as the large, gilded gates to the massive palace came into view, the Emperor suddenly gasped. Ren looked down at him again, and he watched him with frightened eyes as he first made a gurgling sound and then coughed violently.

“OPEN THE GATES!” he roared as he raced towards them. “THE EMPEROR IS WOUNDED! OPEN THE GATES!”

Guards called to each other as the courtyard came alive in the dark. The gates slowly swung open, and Ren sped through only moments later, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the main entrance to the palace.

A guard grabbed the reins, and as gently as he could, while still trying to hurry, Ren got off his panting horse. He refused any offer of help, holding the Emperor as tight and as close to him as he could.

“Bring the physicians to the Emperor’s apartments, _now!”_ he barked as he strode through the palace doors.

Prying, meddling eyes of courtiers, guards and servants alike, followed him as he carried the Emperor through seemingly endless halls and rooms. Never had the palace seemed as large as it did right now. He tried to protect the Emperor from view, to not let them see how badly injured he was, but the way he was slumped in his arms, unmoving, was impossible to hide.

The word that the Emperor was gravely injured would get around even before Ren reached his personal apartments. It wouldn't take long before the whispers and gossip started.

The physicians thankfully moved fast. Along with the Emperor’s premier valet, they were already waiting in the bedchamber when Ren came rushing in with him. Ren didn't know what they had been told on such short notice, but the first physician’s face turned a shade whiter when he saw the Emperor.

“Get him on the bed,” he commanded him, and Ren immediately obliged, carefully lowering the limp Emperor down onto the soft frame.

“Now leave,” the physician told him in a grave voice as he started removing the Emperor's bloodstained clothes.

Ren didn't move. For some reason, he couldn't. He could only watch as the Emperor lay unmoving on the bed.

The room started swimming. Something was leaking down the right side of his face, and he lifted his hand to touch it, then winced as his fingers made contact with the wound he had received earlier.

In the heat of battle, Ren's sole focus had been on getting the Emperor to safety, and he had ignored and temporarily forgotten his own injury. But now, he suddenly felt very tired and dizzy.

“Sir Ren,” a voice said close by, and he turned his head to find a blurry Lord Phasma next to him. They gripped his arm gently, but firmly.

Ren opened his mouth to answer them, but instead of speaking, he gave some sort of groan. Then his knees buckled under him, and just before he hit the floor, everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

Ren awoke in his own bed a day later, face throbbing with pain.

“Oh, you're awake,” a servant girl sitting by his bed, said. “I'll get one of the physicians.”

And before Ren could protest, she had already disappeared out the door. She returned not long after with a physician and Lord Phasma.

The physician carefully checked the bandages covering the right side of his face and shoulder. “You should heal just fine,” he told him. “But there will be scarring.”

“I don't care about scarring,” Ren grumbled. “I care about doing my job, which I'm not able to while in bed.”

“That will have to wait a while, Sir Ren,” the physician said.

“How long?” he snarled.

“I would like to see you rest for at least a week.”

“You'll be lucky if you manage to keep him in bed for the rest of the day,” Lord Phasma interrupted.

Ren glared at them. While Lord Phasma far outranked him in title, the two of them had formed a friendship, and between just them, noble rank didn't matter.

The physician sighed, undoubtedly knowing Ren’s reputation for being impatient. “Just be careful,” he said before leaving.

When they were alone, Phasma took a seat on the chair next to his bed, careful so as not to sit on or crease their coat.

“How is his Imperial Majesty doing?” He was worried and almost too afraid to ask. His condition had been very bad when they had returned the evening before.

“Officially, his Imperial Majesty is recovering and in good spirits,” Phasma answered. Then they turned to make sure the door was closed, before they continued in a hushed voice, “But between you and I, he is, at the moment, not doing well.”

Ren's eyes went dark and cold at their words, a knot forming in his stomach. “I told him it wasn't safe,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “I told him not to travel until the next morning. I all but begged him not to, but he did it still.”

“Ren-” Phasma tried, but he ignored them.

Anger spread through him, and he clenched his fists as he spoke. “How am I supposed to protect someone who thinks they can't be harmed? How am I supposed to protect someone who thinks they are above death? He has been lucky so far, but this time-”

He slammed his fist into the wall, a piercing pain shooting through his entire right side. He made an involuntary growl.

“Ren, stop!” Phasma snapped at him, grabbing his other arm. “You brought him back to the palace. You gave him a chance. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be fighting for his life right now; he would already be dead.”

Ren pursed his lips together and looked away. He couldn't help but be angry - at the Emperor for taking such a risk, but mostly at himself for not keeping him from harm.

Phasma, heaving a sigh, got up from the chair.

“Don’t grieve his passing before his time,” they told him before they disappeared out of the room, leaving him to his own gloomy thoughts.

 

* * *

 

For a long time, it didn't look good at all for the Emperor. Even though the Imperial advisors kept up appearances for the sake of the court, Ren knew. To be frank, no one was stupid enough to be fooled. The Emperor’s absence at court was glaringly obvious, more and more so for each day that passed. But everyone seemed more than willing to pretend that everything was in order. At least on the surface. What was being said behind closed doors, was a different matter.

It took four full weeks before Ren was told the Emperor had made a rather miraculous recovery, and that he would return to court the next day. But first, he wished to see Ren.

“His Imperial Majesty wishes to see _me_ before anyone else?” Ren frowned at Lord Phasma.

“Is that so curious? You did save his life, after all,” they pointed out.

“It’s unnecessary,” Ren mumbled.

Phasma nodded, their hands tucked neatly behind their back. “I will return to his Imperial Majesty then, and let him know that the captain of his private knights does not wish to meet with him.”

“Of course I will meet with him,” Ren quickly snapped at them, as if he had a choice.

“Then follow me,” they smirked.

It was a long walk from Ren’s humble room in the cellars to the Emperor’s apartments. Phasma led him all the way to the bedchamber, where they opened the double doors leading into the room and closed them behind him again after he had stepped through them.

Ren entered the gold and crimson room flooded by the midday sun. His eyes went to the luxurious bed, halfway expecting to find the Emperor in it, but it was empty. Then he turned his head and instead found him standing in front of one of the windows at the opposite side of the room. His chin was raised, one hand rested on each hip and his left foot was placed coquettishly in front of the other. He was but a silhouette as a halo of warm sunlight surrounded not just his head, but his entire being, making him light up like he was made of pure gold. His hair, flowing down his shoulders in soft, red waves, shone as brightly as a precious gem.

Ren went to him and bowed deeply when he reached him. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Sir Ren,” the Emperor greeted him. “Tell me, how long have you been in my service?”

“Three years, Sire,” Ren answered him.

“And how long have you been captain of my private knights?”

“Two and a half years, Sire.”

“You made yourself very useful very quickly.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

The Emperor stepped around him, the heels of his golden shoes clacking against the wooden floor as he walked. Ren turned with him, and he was finally able to see his face properly. He looked the same as before, but Ren took special notice of his green eyes now - the same eyes that had looked up at him in desperation and anguish not that long ago. Now, they flicked to the scar running down Ren's face.

The scar didn't really bother Ren, even with the nobles gawking and pointing at him. (He already had a reputation among them for being a wildling, and the scar only added to that.) But in front of the Emperor, he suddenly felt self-conscious. He turned his head in an attempt to hide it, waiting for the Emperor to frown or look away in disgust. But he didn't avert his eyes.

Instead, he said, “I brought you here to reward you for saving my life.”

One of Ren’s eyes twitched a little. “His Imperial Majesty is all too kind. I require no gift for my services,” he spoke in a voice less confident than normal.

The Emperor cocked a ginger brow at him. “Bold of you to decline a gift from the Emperor.”

Ren bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t comfortable with this, and genuinely didn’t want anything from the Emperor, other than being allowed to continue his job.

“Your good health is all the reward I need, Sire,” he told him, and he meant it.

The Emperor took a few steps closer, standing himself toe to toe with him, so close Ren could feel his breath ghost across the skin on his face.

“Is that so?” the Emperor questioned him with a small smirk on his lips. “I’m afraid I must insist.” He reached up and put the index and middle finger of his right hand under Ren’s chin, forcing him to look directly at him.

Ren swallowed and his brows knitted as it dawned on him what the Emperor might actually want. “Sire-”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you refuse me?”

“No, Sire, I-” Ren began, but he broke himself off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Speak up, Sir Ren, and speak freely. I would like to know why you are not willing to accept my very generous reward.”

Ren’s eyes darted to the floor. He wanted to turn his face away again, but the Emperor’s fingers firmly placed under his chin, made sure he couldn’t. It was clear to him what the Emperor was offering, but he didn’t understand why he was offering it to _him._ Lord knows, however, that he wanted it, feeling his skin burn under the touch of those soft, slender fingers, and his mind couldn't help but wonder what those fingers would feel like touching other parts of his body.

When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed voice. “It’s not that I do not want your reward, Sire. I’m merely afraid I’m not worthy of it.”

The Emperor removed his fingers from underneath Ren’s chin then. Instead, he put one of them over his lips. He pushed a little against them, and Ren parted them for him, letting out a soft sigh.

Tryingly, the Emperor pushed the tip of his finger into Ren’s mouth, and Ren found himself all too willing to open for him. He pushed it further in, to the second knuckle, and Ren closed his lips, letting his tongue swirl around it.

Ren suckled on his finger for a little while before the Emperor pulled it out again with a small pop. Ren looked at him with an uncertain, questioning face.

The Emperor's hand drifted from Ren's mouth to his chest, where he pressed his hand against his waistcoat, splaying his fingers.

“Have you ever been taken by a man before?” he asked.

Ren swallowed, arousal stirring in his gut at the Emperor's open and unashamed question. He nodded. “Yes, Sire.”

“Have you ever been taken by an Emperor before?” he followed up, his tone of voice the same.

Ren bit his lip before he answered. “No, Sire.”

The Emperor smirked at him, pushing his hand harder against his chest and moving it just a little bit further down, playing with one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “Tell me, Ren, do you think of me? When you're alone in your quarters, touching yourself, do you imagine my hands on you?”

The only answer Ren was able to give him, was a blush. He was hardly the only one, but he would never admit to anyone that the Emperor was and had long been the object of his desires.

The Emperor chuckled as the colour of Ren's face turned scarlet. “Or perhaps,” he continued as his hand moved even further down, stopping at his belly button this time, “being such an excellent rider, you have imagined riding me? To clench your thighs around me while you rise and fall on my cock?”

Ren's breath hitched in his throat at the Emperor's words; partly because they were incredibly stimulating, but mostly because they were true. Times weren't few when he had indeed pleasured himself while thinking about the Emperor's cock deep inside him.

Ren whimpered a pathetic _yes_ back at him.

The Emperor finally moved his hand to Kylo's groin and ever so gently grazed the outside of his breeches with the tips of his fingers. The touch was so soft, almost unnoticeable, yet it felt to Ren like the Emperor was trying to set him on fire, and his cock quickly filled out in his breeches.

“Take it off,” the Emperor commanded him, gesturing to his attire. “Everything.”

Ren did. His clothes were hastily removed and sloppily dropped to the floor, leaving him naked and exposed in front of the Emperor. His heavy, fully erect cock fell a little to the left, all but aching to be touched.

The Emperor, taking his time, walked a full circle around him, before he stopped in front of him again, his eyes taking in every inch of his body.

Ren felt as if he was on display. He was vulnerable and helpless at the hands of the man before him: the most powerful man in the world. But he liked it, and he wanted it. He wanted the Emperor to use him, to have his way with him, to ravage him.

“You are indeed a fine specimen, Ren,” the Emperor commented. “It will be my pleasure to mount you.”

The Emperor stepped close to him again, but he didn't touch him. “I want you to get on my bed on all fours: face down, arms out to the side, ass in the air.”

Ren licked his lips, then slowly moved over to the crimson bed and climbed onto it. He got on his hands and knees, put his right cheek down on the mattress and spread his arms out to the side. He was in a very compromising position, and the earlier feeling of being on display, was nothing against how he felt now.

“Very good,” the Emperor told him. “Now, stay like that until I return. _Do not move.”_

And then he exited the room, leaving Ren to himself.

At first, Ren found it stimulating to wait for him. His skin prickled at the thought of his return. But as time passed, he started to feel cold, and his limbs ached from being in the same position, his cock losing its vigour.

But he didn't move, because the Emperor had told him not to. It didn't matter if it hurt. He had to obey orders.

Ren didn't know how much time had passed when the Emperor finally returned, perhaps an hour or two, but the light in the room had changed somewhat.

He wasn't alone when he came back, however.

“Place it on the table by the end of the bed, and then leave,” the Emperor commanded, undoubtedly to a servant.

Ren was simultaneously struck by horror and excitement, knowing that the servant could see him so utterly exposed and even humiliated. It wouldn’t be long before everyone at the palace knew. He blushed at the thought, but it also drained all tiredness from his body, once again replacing it with scorching want.

When the servant left, Ren heard the unmistakable sound of clothes being shed behind him, but there was a limit to what he could see in his position, and it almost made him whine, because there was nothing else he wanted than to see all of the Emperor.

“Does it hurt, the position you're in?” the Emperor's sultry voice asked him. He sounded innocent, but he was surely well aware what he had made Ren do.

“No, Sire,” answered Ren. It was a lie. It did hurt. His back was aching from the arch, but the anticipation of what was hopefully to come, outweighed the pain.

“Liar,” purred the Emperor. He climbed onto the bed behind Ren, and Ren was granted a view of pale, slim thighs, but wasn't quite able to see his cock. That, he could only imagine. And he had several times: a nice erect cock, nestled in thick, curly hair as red as that on his head.

The Emperor pressed the flat of his hand to the small of Ren's back, just where the pain was the worst. But the warmth of his hand soothingly spread from his palm to Ren's skin and out through his body. He groaned.

“You are even better at taking orders than I thought you were.” His hand moved down towards Ren's ass, one finger dipping between his spread cheeks.

“You told me not to move, Sire,” said Ren, shuddering as the Emperor's finger found the rim of his hole and circled around it.

“And you will continue not to move,” the Emperor told him. “You will stay like this until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, Sire,” Ren obeyed.

“Good boy.”

The finger circling his hole was removed, only to return a moment later covered in slick oil. Ren gasped and shut his eyes as the finger was carefully pushed past his muscles and into him. The Emperor’s slim finger fucked him gently, steadily working him open. He entered a second finger, and Ren sighed in pleasure at the feeling of them spreading inside him.

The Emperor was in no rush, it seemed, taking his time with Ren, and Ren felt himself quickly growing impatient. His cock was throbbing, needy with lust, and he writhed, moaning as the Emperor inserted a third thinger into him.

“Please,” Ren whispered into the sheets, squeezing hard around the fingers that were slipping in and out of him. Still achingly slow, skilfully and quite purposefully, Ren was sure, avoiding the sweet spot inside him.

“Did you want something?” the Emperor asked.

“You, Sire,” Ren begged.

The Emperor let his other hand come around his hip, moving towards his pulsating cock. But he didn’t touch it, only let it hover right next to it, so close Ren could feel the heat radiating from it.

Ren whimpered at the absence of contact.

“Oh, Ren, look at you. I have barely even gotten started, and you are already this broken.”

His fingers were then slowly removed from Ren’s ass as both hands went to spread his ass cheeks even further apart. A wet, velvety tongue took over instead, lapping at his hole in long strokes, before dipping into it with the tip, making Ren cry out in pleasure.

Ren gripped at the bedsheets, pushing his face further into the mattress, the only movement he was allowed. It was an exquisite, unbearable form of torture to not be allowed to move, or to see properly: to only be at the mercy of whatever the Emperor wanted to do with him.

The Emperor kept working at him, switching between the warm wetness of his tongue and nimble fingers slicked with oil.

“Please, Sire,” Ren begged him again when he felt his thighs start to shake. “Please, I need you to-,” but he broke off as the Emperor finally decided to brush lightly against the gland inside him.

Ren gasped, and his knees almost buckled under him.

“You need me to do what?” the Emperor pressed him, and gave him another swift stroke against his sweet spot.

“Touch me, Sire,” Ren moaned. “Please touch me. I beg you.”

The Emperor’s other hand moved to Ren’s cock, wrapping it around the head and pulling it back to the base. He gave it a few lazy strokes while he was still fucking his ass with his fingers. Both at the same time made Ren jerk and shudder, leaving his mouth hanging open and drooling onto the sheets.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” Ren gasped. “Yes. More, please, more.”

“No.” The Emperor quickly removed his hands from both his cock and his ass, and Ren wanted to scream at the emptiness and cold they left behind.

“Sire, please!” Ren begged him.

“Quiet,” he snapped back, and Ren instantly shut his mouth with a quivering whimper.

Ren could feel the Emperor looming behind him, so very close, but it was an achingly long while before he made another move. Ren couldn’t help but squirm below him, pushing his ass back against him, silently asking him for more, nowhere close to having his desires fulfilled.

When the Emperor finally did make another move, it was sudden. His slick cock was slapped against the top of Ren’s ass, then slid down between his cheeks, and after the long warm up, the head of it slipped easily into Ren’s hole.

Ren moaned loudly as the Emperor grabbed a hold of his hips and pushed into him. He stilled deep inside him for a while, before he slipped almost all the way out and thrusted into him again. Slowly. Everything he did was painfully slow, as if he was on a mission to make Ren lose his mind from lust alone. Because this slowness made sure he could feel the smallest of things and have enough time to react to it. Every time he pulled back, Ren squeezed his muscles around him, wanting to keep him firmly inside. Every time he moved back in, he moaned as the soft head of his cock rubbed against his gland.

The Emperor took a good, long time building up the pace, and Ren was getting frustrated. He wasn’t allowed to move and he wasn’t allowed to touch himself or the Emperor. With the exception of his legs, he couldn’t even see him, and he so badly wanted to see him. He wanted to watch as the Emperor's hips turned, to see the muscles of his upper body work, and to look at his face as he concentrated on thrusting into Ren.

He wondered what he looked like when he came; wondered what he sounded like. He was always so calm. Even now, in the middle of fucking Ren, he was eerily in control of himself. Was he in control even when he came, or was that the one time he allowed himself to come undone?

Ren’s cock was leaking by now, and with the Emperor finally having built up a steady, quick pace, pounding into him with every thrust, his head was swimming. A familiar warmth was building up in his abdomen as his muscles seemed to go taught and loose at the same time.

“I’m close, Sire,” Ren told him, his voice muffled by the bed sheets he was pressed into.

At those words the Emperor immediately stopped moving. He leaned over Ren’s back, and Ren felt the soft skin of his upper body press against his sweaty back. He grabbed a good chunk of his hair and pulled his head up. Ren let out a pained cry, but then he felt the Emperor’s lips and warm breath at his neck, and his words close to his ear, and anything resembling pain, was quickly forgotten.

“Don’t you dare,” the Emperor hissed at him. “Don’t you dare come until I say so.”

He moved back a little, taking Ren with him and thereby allowing him to change positions and rest on his elbows instead. It was a welcome change.

The Emperor held onto his hair and grabbed his hip with his other hand, before he started moving inside him again. Ren almost started crying when he went back to his slow speed. With the change of position, it was even easier for the Emperor’s cock to get to his gland, and Ren could only think that he was doing this on purpose to torture him.

“Please,” he sobbed, but the only answer he got was another tug at his hair as the Emperor sped up again. “Please, Sire, please!”

It was too much, and Ren prayed that the Emperor would find his release soon, so he could come too. But he also didn’t want it to end, because even though it physically hurt to be this close to the edge but not allowed to go over, too much was just perfect.

His eyelids were drooping and he wouldn’t have been able to hold his head up, if the Emperor didn’t hold it up for him. He was too far gone while he tried so hard to obey the Emperor’s order: to not come.

He must not come.

The Emperor found back to his quick pace again, his balls slapping against Ren’s hole everytime he bottomed out in him. Ren snapped his hips back against him with every thrust, tightening his muscles around his cock.

“On your back, Ren.” The Emperor snarled, before he suddenly pulled all the way out of him.

In his current haze, it took Ren some time before he actually understood the command. He slowly shifted over on his back, having to place one leg on each side of the Emperor. And finally, he could see him.

The Emperor was kneeling, holding his stiff, pinkish cock in his right hand, and it was, just as Ren had thought, nestled in ginger curls. The rest of him was as pale as the legs Ren had been granted visual access to earlier. Except for the freckles: small beauty marks scattered unevenly across his body. His chest and cheeks were flushed, and his hair, sweat-soaked at the roots, was falling down his shoulders and back.

Ren stared open-mouthed and in awe at the glorious vision that was the naked, sweaty, panting Emperor stroking his own cock in earnest in front of him. And he was completely intoxicated by the thought that this man, this beautiful man, had been inside him.

The Emperor was working himself fast and hard. He breathed heavily as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back, exposing the milky white skin of his throat to Ren.

It was dizzying to watch him, and Ren shivered, goosebumps forming on his skin from pure want and desperation at only being allowed to watch.

Finally, a broken gasp escaped the Emperor’s lips, then a pleasured moan as his cock spasmed and gushed, coating Ren's own cock and stomach with his come.

The Emperor lied down next to Ren after, moving in close, and the feeling of skin against skin, made Ren whimper. He was so starved for more contact at this point, he knew he could come undone from the smallest touch.

“You were so good,” the Emperor praised him.

He ran his left hand through Ren's hair to the back of his head, then snuck his arm behind his neck so Ren could rest on it.

“You were perfect,” he continued as his other hand stroked his cheek with the soft tips of his fingers.

Ren sighed in gratitude. Then the Emperor gently forced his head to the side, where he, for the first time, had their lips meet. His were soft and smooth and perfect, unlike Ren's dried and chapped. Had he been more lucid, Ren would perhaps have pulled back, thinking that his lips should be nowhere near the Emperor's. But in this moment, ravenous for any kind of touch, he would take everything he could get, however he could get it.

The Emperor's tongue slipped into his mouth, swiping over the bottom row of his teeth and grazing his palate, before playfully meeting with Ren’s. When he pulled back, Ren followed, not wanting it to end, and the Emperor chuckled.

“Would you like to come now, Ren?” he rasped into his ear as he let his hand snake down his chest and abdomen, Ren’s body twitching at the touch.

“Yes, please, Sire,” he gasped. “Please.”

The Emperor wrapped his warm hand around his cock, and Ren whined at the first stroke. It wouldn’t take much for him to come, overstimulated as he was, after what he had been put through.

“You are so good,” the Emperor repeated into Ren’s ear as he skilfully ran his hand over his cock, and Ren reveled in every word.

A few strokes later, and Ren fell apart. He shouted incoherently as his limbs trembled, and tears leaked from his eyes as his cock convulsed and spilled over the Emperor’s hand.

The Emperor held him close as he rode off the wave of his orgasm, keeping his hand on him. He found Ren's lips again, and although he was panting, he happily accepted another deep kiss from him.

It took some time before Ren was able to find his bearings again. When he finally did, he turned over on his side to find the Emperor's spring green eyes looking back at him.

He looked stunning: naked and glowing and somehow radiating more power and confidence than Ren had seen from him before. He let his gaze travel down his body, and noticed what he had been too far gone to notice before: his scar.

It was close to his belly button, vertical, perhaps three inches long, and red and purple in colour. It wasn't pretty, and it looked horribly out of place in contrast to the rest of his smooth and otherwise undamaged body.

Ren dared to reach out and touch it, and the Emperor let him. He ran a calloused finger over it.

“I was afraid you wouldn't survive,” he admitted in a quiet murmur.

“I almost didn't.” He said it so casually, as if almost dying was nothing special at all. As if his death didn't mean the fall of the Empire.

Just like Ren had reached his hand out for his scar, the Emperor reached out for Ren’s. He let his hand rest over it, and Ren closed his eyes at the touch.

“These scars,” the Emperor said, “bind us together.”

Ren opened his eyes again, and the Emperor locked his green eyes with his brown.

“I would like to keep you, Ren.”

Ren nodded weakly at the offer. There was nothing else he wanted in this world, he realised, than belonging to the Emperor.

“Yes, Sire,” he agreed with a soft sigh.

The Emperor smiled at him. “And to think you thought you weren't worthy.”


End file.
